


But Underneath I'm Superman

by PepperF



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, I don’t mean to state the bleedin' obvious, but if she ain't already dead, maybe we can, y'know, help?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Underneath I'm Superman

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was writing a Guy/Meg AU fic, but it turned out I was writing an Allan-is-secretly-more-awesome-than-everyone fic. *shrug*

They made good progress on the way back into Sherwood. Somehow, Allan reflected, he didn't feel at all weighed down by all the gold he was carrying. He could easily have carried it to, say, Clun and back (and, incidentally, there was a really nice tavern in Clun). They were laughing and joking, delighted by their victory – until they crested a rise and saw the man on the path before them. Tall, black-clad... there was really only one person it could be.

The sound of gold clanging to the ground alerted Allan that Robin had taken off. Robin nimbly leapt a small brook and unsheathed his sword, and Allan swore mildly, looking around at his fellow outlaws, who were suddenly grim-faced. "I thought he got over the whole blind-rage-at-Gisborne thing?"

John shrugged, dropping his gold and hefting his staff. "Come on."

"Yeah, I want to see this," said Kate.

They raced to catch up with Robin, too far behind to stop a fight now. But when Guy heard them at last and turned quickly to face his attackers, Robin came to a screeching halt.

At first, Allan thought Guy was carrying his own sack of gold – but then he realised: it was a woman. Unconscious or dead, it was impossible to tell. "Oh, sh—"

"What have you done, Gisborne?" Robin demanded, pointing his sword at Guy.

Guy's nostrils flared, and he straightened, clutching the woman closer. "Me? This is your fault!" He glared around at the outlaws who now surrounded him, brandishing weapons. "Your pathetic rescue attempt – this is all it accomplished! She will die in Sherwood instead of in Nottingham! I hope you're proud of yourself, Hood!" Allan was shocked to see the emotion writ large on Guy's face. Grief – for this unknown woman? He shared a surprised look with John.

Robin, however, remained unimpressed. "Oh, really? We're supposed to believe that you're rescuing innocent maids, now, are we?"

The look Guy gave him would have scorched stone. "I do not care what you think – or do," he snapped. "Kill me if you like, so long as I do not have to endure another of your sanctim—"

"Look, I don’t mean to state the bleedin' obvious," interrupted Allan, who was rather tired of the Robin-and-Guy-hate-each-other-SO-MUCH show, "but if she ain't already dead, maybe we can, y'know, help?"

Robin stilled, and then grimaced to himself. "Tuck," he said, tersely. 

Tuck stepped forwards, holding out his hands to show that he was unarmed (not that that mattered: Allan had wrestled with Tuck once, and the mad monk had nearly pulled his arm off). "Let me look." Guy glared at him, but allowed Tuck to examine the woman – barely more than a girl, Allan noticed now. "We should take her back to camp. This wound is grave, and needs treatment as soon as possible if she is to live." Robin nodded, lowering his sword.

"No!" protested Kate. "We can't trust him!"

"How very charitable," said Guy, through gritted teeth.

"Robin, this is Guy of Gisborne we're talking about," Much warned. "Your mortal enemy, remember?"

"We'll take her and not him," suggested John, causing Guy to pull the woman even closer and snarl menacingly.

Robin held up a hand. "We'll blindfold him," he said. Guy glared at him. "Or would you prefer being knocked unconscious? Because I am _very_ happy to accommodate that."

Guy looked down at the woman, closed his eyes, and sighed, his face suddenly tired. "Very well. You may blindfold me," he said. Allan shook his head at the man's overweening arrogance, as Much pulled off his headscarf.

It took further persuasion to get Guy to yield up his burden, but Tuck's quiet authority finally prevailed. Kate, with a sweetness that deceived no one, offered to lead Guy, but Allan hurriedly grabbed his former boss's arm, dubious about Guy's chances of arriving safely back at the camp under Kate's care. He was pretty sure it was against the Robin Hood Code or something to walk someone over a precipice after they'd entrusted themselves to you. No matter how much they deserved it.

The woman woke briefly when they reached the camp and laid her on one of the spare bunks – but when Tuck began to work on her, she gave a brief cry of pain and mercifully lapsed back into unconsciousness. Tuck emerged after a long, tense wait, and Guy rose abruptly, stalked peremptorily across the camp, and ducked behind the curtain, utterly ignoring Tuck's mild, "She will not wake for some time."

A couple of hours later, when Much was silently preparing a meal and the others were silently engaged on small tasks that conveniently kept them in camp and with weapons close to hand, the girl awoke. Allan knew this because he'd seated himself with a sidelong view into her bunk alcove, and had been watching Guy's grim and silent staring match with the floor for the last quarter-hour. Allan saw the flutter of a hand, and instantly Guy's head lifted, and he was moving forwards with a look so tender that Allan felt his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. His list of reasons for wanting the girl to live – she was quite pretty, yeah, and she was probably, y'know, innocent or whatever – suddenly had added to it, 'because it opened up a new and oh so rich seam of Guy-mockery'. 

Allan cherished the theory that people would one day come to appreciate his sense of humour, and he looked forward to the day when his faith would be rewarded.

Guy and the woman talked – too quietly even for Allan's sharp ears – and then Guy patted her hand and ducked out of the alcove, looking at least five years younger than when he'd walked in.

Well. This was a turn up for the books and no mistake.

"She'll live, will she? That's nice." Kate stood up, and glared at Guy, who looked back at her in surprise. He plainly had no idea of what he had done to earn her everlasting hatred. "I'm so glad you won't lose your lady-love."

"Kate, not now," said Robin, warningly. Kate ignored him.

"What a pity we can't all be as lucky as you," she sneered, putting her hands on her hips. "What a pity there was no one there to save all our loved ones. For example, my brother."

Allan groaned silently. Kate was a lovely girl and all, but she did tend to harp on about her brother something chronic.

"No one could save my brother when you killed him." She stepped forwards, her skirts swinging to reveal the long dagger in her hand, and the tension thickened abruptly. Allan saw as Guy's expression changed from bewilderment to a crackling anger. He slipped into a defensive stance, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. "You killed him, Guy of Gisborne. A defenceless boy who'd never harmed anyone!"

Allan stood up slowly. "Look, we've all lost a brother or somethin', all right?" he said, holding out his hands and ambling forwards. "Guy's killed lots of people. That doesn't mean we should up and kill him back."

"You don't understand, Allan," she snapped, and pointed at Guy with her knife. "I'm not talking about lots of people. He killed my brother."

"He killed my brother, too." Kate's eyes snapped to him, thrown by the seriousness of his tone. "Ask Robin, or John, or Much. They were there. My brother was kind of an arse, yeah, but he didn't deserve to hang." Allan turned slowly to Guy, who was watching him warily. "In fact, I don't know why I'm even trying to defend you," he remarked. "I should just let 'er gut you. Remember when you tortured me, forced me to turn against my friends? Happy times, eh? You've been an utter bastard to everyone in Nottingham, no one likes you, everyone wants to see you dead. I mean, you saw the crowd gathered for your execution, right, there was a man sellin' sausages and everythin'. And you and the Sheriff, you killed my brother." He stepped closer, saw Guy's eyes widen. "I bet you didn't even know," he said, softly. "Did you? Did you know about my brother, when you turned me into your spy?"

Guy held his gaze, and Allan could see the anger retreat – and was that a flicker of remorse? Guy shook his head. "I didn't," he admitted.

"Thought not." Allan nodded reflectively. Then he swung a punch so fast and true that Guy crumpled to the floor without a sound.

Allan stood looking down at the unconscious body of his former employer with a certain amount of personal satisfaction. And then his hand made itself felt. "Ow! God, the man's got a jaw like granite."

"I'll get some balm," said Tuck, giving him a quiet smile.

"Thanks, mate."

"Allan..." Kate put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Allan shrugged. "No reason you should," he said, smiling fondly at her. They both looked down at Guy – and Kate sighed, tucked her dagger back into its sheath, and turned away.

Tuck stepped over Guy's prone body and began to slather herbal-scented grease onto Allan's raw knuckles. "That was neatly done, my friend," he remarked in an undertone. Allan looked at him, and then around at the camp. Much had gone back to his cooking, and was whistling. Robin had taken Kate aside, and they were speaking quietly. John was leaning back against a tree, and had closed his eyes, apparently about to take a nap.

"I don't know what you mean," said Allan, innocently.


End file.
